The Black Cloak
by Vynxe
Summary: She was the third chosen to bear the curse and she accepted it willingly so that Arthas may rest in peace and not be judged for his sins. The time of the Kings was over. Now ruled the Lich Queen. Arthas Menethil/OC
**This takes place a little bit after Legion where we take a quick peak at the GIANT portal, from which demons are pouring since the OC does know what is going on even if vaguely.**

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It never changed…

The snow was harsh and unwelcoming, it clung to her clothes and bit down hard on her pale skin like hungry wolfs craving flesh. The sharp top of the Citadel still tore the black clouds into two, which gave way to a dead, starless sky to look down upon the forsaken land and its inhabitants. The walls stood tall and proud, unshaken, unbreakable, they still protected their haunted castle and the undead that aimlessly marched within its hold. The loyal souls, cursed and forever bound to those unholy grounds, still protected, still stood at their posts and looked over the world of the living, forever silent, forever true to their King.

Icecrown was frozen in time. It hadn't changed…and it never would. As long as she stood, as long as her lungs thrived for air and her heart pumped life through her being, she would let no one set foot in _his_ kingdom. Neither the Horde nor the Alliance. She would keep the land safe, everlasting and unchanged, as it had once kept her away from the wars that wagered between humans and orcs and demons and mortals.

This was her home, it was _their_ home and she would protect it no matter the cost.

The undead, even if primal and destructive, did not attack her, they didn't even pay her heed. They knew her and remembered her from the times he was still alive and ruling over them.

They turned their hollow gazes, locking them on her whenever she passed by atop a menacing, winged horse. Then they returned to roaming the dead landscape without any goal or destination.

Invincible could fly and was much faster doing so, but she enjoyed her travel, enjoyed the hollow throttle of the horse's hooves, the light frozen dust that rouse and followed her and the mount as they ventured forth, the scarce deep-frozen plants that poked through the dead soil here and there. Sometimes she would gather all that she found and make a bouquet and store it for later times.

Icecrown was beautiful in her eyes and hers alone because no one saw it the way she did. People judged it and hated it, stayed far away, tormented by foul memories of battles, lost souls and spilled blood; she didn't mind, however. She was content with their choices because she didn't have to fend them off.

She gently pulled on the reins of the undead mount when they reached the entrance to the Citadel. On cue, Invincible came to a halt and lifted off the ground with ease, already knowing their frequently performed routine.

The wind blew against them as they flew high, past the swarms of wyverns and above the clouds that rained ashen snow over the forgotten zone, until they reached the Frozen throne.

The air there was still, freezing, but there was neither snow nor wind nor life, even the sky was dead silent above them.

Truly, the platform was death's domain.

She took in a deep breath and briefly closed her eyes, overwhelmed by nostalgia, then swallowed back a whimper and let tears flow down her white face.

No matter how many times she came to visit his icy grave the tears never seemed to run out nor did the pain ever falter. Years had passed and still, _still_ she cried and kissed him and spoke to him. Her loyalty to him did not fade and it never would.

"Everything is so different now." she mumbled and scrambled off Invincible before tugging the black cloak, visibly too large for her small frame, tighter around herself "After your death so many things changed."

She sat in front of an icy tomb set right in front of the Throne, exactly where he had fallen, and extended a hand from under the cloak, laying it flat on the cold surface.

The woman had led a small group of wyverns to freeze his lifeless body before it had the chance to begin decomposing, it had been her last wish and Tirion had respected her too much to decline even if he knew of the dangers.

"After they killed you came the Cataclysm, Stormwind was almost destroyed." she smiled bitterly, the tears blurring her vision and refusing to let her see his hollow expression "Deathwing, one of the Aspects, it was his doing. He looked so powerful…But I'm sure you could have defeated him. You were the strongest and to me…to me you always will be. Forever."

She wiped her cold nose and changed her position from kneeling to sitting cross-legged on the black cloak keeping the warmth of her body secured under its thick mass.

Bolvar sat behind her, frozen and eternal. She spared him no attention, only placed a small bouquet of frozen herbs on his lap from time to time, whenever she didn't need them for potions, as a way of showing her respect for his sacrifice and thanking him for accepting her constant presence within Icecrown.

"They discovered Pandaria shortly after, it is such a strange place and the people are so foreign, but they are sooo so cute." the woman giggled cheekily, despite her broken spirit and damp cheeks "They look like bears!"

She rubbed the frost away from the crystal clear ice and saw his face and clenched at the tomb, her nails scratching the glossy surface.

It was tearing her inside, but she would rather have him like this than not have him at all.

"Then a whole new world unfolded. Draenor. I'm not sure if you know of it. It is Outland, but different, back in the past when it wasn't torn apart by war." she laid her forehead on the ice and a trembling breath escaped her heavy chest "It's so beautiful there…if only you could see it."

She started sobbing; shaking under the cloak, a hand rouse to cover up her mouth as she clenched her eyes shut and softly beat down on the coffin.

"Arthas…I miss you…"

Her lips locked with the tomb for a short moment before she retreated and inhaled deeply, face stuffed in the softness of the black cape, his cape. The piece of fabric gave her comfort so much that she rarely ever let it out of her sight. And now, when she needed it most, it was there, weighting on her shoulders and letting her soak her bitter tears in its softness until she calmed and continued to speak in a trembling whisper.

"I remember when you gave this to me. That night had been our last." she laughed to herself "You knew they were coming. You knew…you would die. You knew…and still you faced them. My brave king. My king…"

The woman nodded to herself and her eyes became distant as if she had won a debate in her head. She lied down facing him and caressed the ice, giving little to no attention to her protesting body, which was freezing more and more with each passing moment. The cloak could keep her warm, but not for long when the temperatures were so low.

"He takes good care of me, you know, you were right all along. He does love me. I could even make him kneel and he would." she curled her numb toes a few times to keep the blood in them flowing, her eyes never leaving his eternally frozen face "I have no idea how you knew, but I'm glad that I'm not alone, at least. I do care for him, but…my heart and loyalty belong to you."

Invincible, tired of waiting, walked to where the woman rested and settled next to her, curling his body around her, instinctively protecting her from the cold. She raised her head just enough for the undead horse to lay his own under hers and shuffled back into a comfortable position, squished between her mount and the coffin.

"You are our master and we shall bow to no one else." her tears had completely dried out and were now replaced by a calm expression "You know…they say that we will perish. They say the Legion is coming and I don't know how long this world will live. Maybe this is our end." she looked up at the sky in wonder and sighed "What should I do, Arthas, my king? What would you do?"

After his death she was left without a purpose, without any will to fight or keep living. She was an empty shell waiting for the day of death. Sometimes she worried for Arthas' soul, wondered if he had been forgiven for his crimes and sins and left to rest in peace for eternity. She wanted to lie to herself, but she doubted, because whenever a comforting feeling of hope nestled in her heart her mind would replay his last words in her head until she was nothing but a pile of tears and fears.

Invincible huffed out a breath of air out of his nose and earned a gentle pat on the snout. He knew she suffered, he felt her pain every time they came back to this forsaken kingdom, but aside from a gentle nudge and a loving lick he could offer no more.

The woman fell silent, gazing at the empty sky with rivaling emptiness in her eyes, and then she closed them, and then reopened them.

"There must always be a Lich King…"

And a flame flared through her being.

Her heart raced, drummed wildly, as she stood in an instant and with eyes wild with realization and hope and _purpose,_ ordered Invincible to his feet before pointing at Bolvar's sitting form.

"Break!"

And he did; the horse stood on his hind legs and with all his might smashed against the ice that enveloped the paladin until his head was free.

The Helm of Domination beckoned to her tauntingly and she balled her hands into fists before sliding it off Bolvar's frozen, expressionless face.

How many nights had she spent atop this icy platform? How many nights had she cried and begged the gods to return her lover to her, to give her her king back? How many times had she imagined the man she shared her bed with as Arthas? How many tears did she spill over his frozen coffin?

She gazed down at the helmet while her whole frame trembled.

What if Ner'zhul's whispers drove her to insanity? Did he still reside in the helm?

What if…what if…what if…

She clenched her teeth tight and her face scrunched into a grotesque look of rage and determination.

A cyclone of thoughts raged within her mind as her heart pounded wildly. It took all her might not to fall to her knees while she struggled to move.

She walked shakily towards the end of the platform and looked over the forsaken land and exhaled evenly, giving herself time, time she didn't need or else she would cower away.

"For you…my king." she whispered and forever sealed her fate.

The helm fell on her head and with it so did her eyelids.

A battle…a fierce war between her screaming and the voices of those still forced to roam Icecrown was fought inside her head which she gripped through the dark helmet.

So many souls…so much pain…so many pleas for freedom...

On her side she fell and curled up, the cloak hiding her sin from the eyes of the gods. Every last damned spirit, unwillingly connected to the frozen wastes, she saw the death of, relived it as her own. Every prickle of pain they felt, she felt all of it, all at once, and she learned what death truly was like.

She kicked and convulsed, she moaned and cried, and finally stilled.

The battle was won.

She stood slowly with eyes still locked shut, but she knew where she was, she felt every fiber of the accursed plains like it was the skin on her body.

Her eyes opened and shortly after icy blue streaks poured out of them in waves – a projectile of all the souls bound to Icecrown and now also to her.

 _She_ had won the battle.

Her cloak flew behind her, beaten and blown by the abrupt appearance of a northern wind, but she no longer thought of it as hostile. It was a part of her now.

A frequent clicking could be heard behind her, approaching her, and soon Invincible stood by her side, sharing the sight of the horizon with his master.

She failed to save her king, failed to save his body, failed to prove herself to him, but now she could save his soul. She would pay for his sins by saving Azeroth. She would save him, she still had a chance, she would save him, she would save all of them. And after, she would lead the Sourge until a new Lich King took her place.

Arthas Menethil had borne the burden for so long, he had carried the title of Lich King and suffered much. Now it was her time to take on the curse and rule the undead army.

Now was the time of the Lich Queen.

"For Arthas." she repeated to herself silently and petted the undead mount next to her on the snout and as if understanding he nodded at her.

She dared not look back at her frozen king, her heart could not suffer any more retrospections. Instead she looked forward, towards Crystalsong forest, towards the land of the living and a livid grimace dimmed her face, which was hidden behind the dark helm.

"The Legion will not take this world." she hissed "Not until I stand breathing."

She would gather armies of those fallen in Icecrown, raise those who died trying to protect their world. She would travel to Outland and awaken the countless draenei that died fighting for their home, she would kill and resurrect any and all demon whose body did not disintegrate. And she would lead them, all of them, and destroy all who dared to threaten Azeroth.

This was her will and so – the will of her future armies.

"We must ride." she spoke calmly and glanced at Invincible "Frostmourne awaits us for redemption…and so does Deathwing."

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 **Reviews and criticism are welcome so feel free to let me know what you think.**


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